


Sacrifice

by ancient_moonshine



Series: Yacië [3]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Master/Servant, Soul Bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:33:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22632727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ancient_moonshine/pseuds/ancient_moonshine
Summary: “I am more than a servant. Your servant.” Sauron says, because the words need to be said though it feels like they’re being ripped out of him. Celebrimbor traces his fingers over his cheeks.“And I am only your master because you will it.” Celebrimbor says softly. “You have as much power over me as I do over you.” Sauron’s eyes widen.“You must make a choice –your choice – whether to continue serving me or not. I cannot compel you to do so, Annatar. And I will not have you unwilling.”
Relationships: Annatar/Celebrimbor | Telperinquar, Celebrimbor | Telperinquar/Sauron | Mairon
Series: Yacië [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1628155
Comments: 20
Kudos: 115





	Sacrifice

_He knows._

It’s Sauron’s first thought on waking up. He hadn’t even realized he had fallen asleep in Celebrimbor’s arms, again. And Celebrimbor is awake. Sauron can feel him watching. Holding him close, playing with his hair. 

“I know you’re awake.” Celebrimbor murmurs. He kisses the shell of Sauron’s ear, lingering at the tip. Sauron cracks his eyes open, and he pushes himself up, avoiding Celebrimbor’s gaze. The blankets pool around his waist. His legs brush against Celebrimbor’s, and Sauron has to quell the instinct to kneel on the bed, to bow. To serve, any way and every way he can.

“Annatar…” Fingers slot between his, and Sauron hates himself for how his breath catches as Celebrimbor lifts his hand to his lips and kisses it. Unwillingly, he lifts his gaze up, and meets Celebrimbor’s. Celebrimbor’s grey gaze is very soft, the softest and most open Sauron has ever seen it.

“You know my name.” Sauron dredges up the words. “My real name. Why don’t you use it?” Celebrimbor exhales. He gathers Sauron to him, and after a moment of resistance, Sauron gives in. Tangling his arms around Celebrimbor’s shoulders and Celebrimbor presses their foreheads together.

“I can’t.” Celebrimbor says after a quiet moment. “It doesn’t feel right to call you that.” Sauron traces a finger around his eye. Celebrimbor’s flesh is fragile and it can give way beneath his nail like paper, but Celebrimbor holds Sauron like he’s the fragile one. Practically cradling him in his arms.

A very dim memory of what the incarnates would consider _childhood_ rises up. Aule, protecting his Maiar during the youth of the world. Sauron banishes it. He drops his gaze away from Celebrimbor’s, pulls away.

“What will you do with me now?” His gaze flickers to Celebrimbor. “If I stay.” Celebrimbor leans back against the pillows. He’s so beautiful that it makes Sauron ache. He wants to keep him, his most prized treasure. Keep him safe from all harm, cover him in gold and all things precious, lock him up and allow nothing and no one else to see him. The side of Celebrimbor’s mouth twitches, like he can hear Sauron’s thoughts. Too late Sauron remembers the oath he swore. He almost curses softly beneath his breath, but he refuses to allow Celebrimbor that satisfaction.

“That choice.” Celebrimbor says. “Is up to you.” Sauron frowns at him, but Celebrimbor is already reaching for him with warm hands.

“Come here.” His voice is gentle. “It’s my turn to serve you.” Sauron looks at him with wide eyes, but allows Celebrimbor to pull him back down to the bed, to spread him open. Celebrimbor laving soft kisses down the insides of his thighs, and Annatar bucks up, cries out as Celebrimbor’s hot, hungry mouth flicks against the tip of his already-erect cock, teasing and licking until Sauron’s writhing beneath him, hands buried none-too gently into Celebrimbor’s dark hair.

He wonders if this is Celebrimbor’s way of getting him to beg for mercy, and then all thought flees him as Celebrimbor’s hot, clever mouth takes him whole.

\---

He’s thinking of the first blaze of sunlight, when he holds Annatar. Burning in his memories after the endless night after the death of the Trees. Though it had hurt to look at, Celebrimbor had been unable to look away, and his father had to cover his eyes. But Celebrimbor’s hands had clutched the skin of his arms in an attempt to keep the heat against his skin from ever leaving him again.

Celebrimbor holds the memory in his mind as he holds Annatar in his arms. Keeping him for as long as he can, waiting for the moment when he opens his eyes and sees his empty arms, the memory of Annatar so much fading warmth.

\---

Celebrimbor halts all work on the Rings of Power indefinitely.

“There are other, more-pressing projects that need finishing.” He tells the Mirdain. “For which more of our resources ought to be poured into. We will return to the crafting of the Rings at a later time.” There are rumbles of discontent, but general acquiescence. Not a few faces glance askance at Sauron, who’s barely restraining the livid rage threatening to consume him. Sauron waits for the last of the Brotherhood to stream out of the meeting-hall before whirling on Celebrimbor.

“ _You-_ “ Sauron hisses, practically too furious to speak. Celebrimbor’s expression remains infuriatingly unperturbed.

“What else did you expect me to do?” Celebrimbor rests his chin on top of his knuckles, raises an incredulous eyebrow at Sauron. “Allow you to have a hand in the most important and most dangerous project ever undertaken by Eregion’s smiths? Not when I now know for certain whose hand it is who’s been leading us.” Sauron glares at him. Celebrimbor stares back evenly. He thinks of the plans Celebrimbor had caught him working on, that were now mere scraps of paper.

“You are, of course, free to make them on your own.” Celebrimbor continues. He stands up. Sauron fights the urge to lower his head as Celebrimbor stares him down.“You’ll probably succeed, with that mind of yours, even without our knowledge and resources.” He steps closer to Sauron. “However, there’s that unfortunate caveat of my ensuring everyone knows who you are if you do.”

The silence is very loud. Celebrimbor just watches him calmly. Not making a single move to protect himself, and at the sheer _arrogance_ of it, Sauron nearly rips into Celebrimbor right then and there.

“Annatar, my love. There will be other works.” Celebrimbor’s voice is soft. “But I need to be able to trust you.” Like he’s soothing an upset child, and Sauron wants to _hit_ him, wants to make that beautiful mouth bleed, wants to see Celebrimbor shattered and on his knees, to hear him beg for mercy. But something stops him, though Celebrimbor hasn’t spoken, feeling sickened at the very thought of breaking Celebrimbor though he hasn’t even made a move towards him. Celebrimbor does not even have to say a word to command him, and at this Sauron feels a rush of sickening helplessness.

Celebrimbor reaches for him, freezing when Sauron jerks back, glaring at him with all the hate he can muster before turning away, the door slamming shut behind him. It’s all Sauron can do to walk calmly to his chambers, and the moment the door closes is the moment he gives vent to his rage. Tearing at his works, his ruined plans, shattering the molds, tearing at himself. Hating Celebrimbor, hating himself, hating the One for making servitude and love the same for his kind.

\--

Annatar doesn’t speak to him. He doesn’t leave, either. Celebrimbor knows his silence for what it is. A stalemate. One false move, and either of them could come crashing down.

The apprentices and journeymen walk around them on tiptoes. Narvi clears her throat and gives Celebrimbor a pointed look during her next diplomatic visit, after negotiating the latest trade agreement between Eregion and Moria. Annatar is not present. Narvi had requested to speak to Celebrimbor alone. Annatar had been unable to hide the brief flash of possessiveness in his gaze before he’d lowered it and acquiesced.

“What happened between you and Annatar?” She demands without preamble, once she’s closed the door of the meeting room behind her. Celebrimbor pours her a flagon of the deep brown ale she favoured over wine and hands it to her, his expression all the controlled placidity his father had taught him to maintain around even his closest allies. Narvi normally barrelled through his guard with little regard for formality but this is a secret that would destroy the hard-won friendship between the elves and the dwarves, and not something he could afford to let her know.

“Creative differences.” He says, pouring himself a measure of ale and taking a sip. “I discovered aspects to the Rings of Power that might prove dangerous if they fall into the wrong hands. With such catastrophic consequences, I reckoned it would be safer to scrap them permanently than push through despite the risks.” Narvi snorts.

“If you give me a ring of power that explodes if I put it on, I’m sacking Eregion. But that's not your only problem with Annatar. Don’t lie to me.” She prods a finger towards Celebrimbor. “The apprentices – I won’t say who - have a running bet that the reason you suspended the Ring project is because you asked Annatar to marry you, and he refused. I told them that Annatar’s the one who can barely look at you but can’t stay away, either. So if anything, Annatar was the one who asked _you_ to marry him, and you turned _him_ down. I bet them a sizeable amount of mithril, so I’d rather I win.” Though her tone is dry, her eyes when she peers up at Celebrimbor are concerned.

“I speak to you as your friend, and not from one sovereign to another. This project is as dear to your heart as it is to his. And to the rest of the Mirdain.” Celebrimbor forces himself not to look away from Narvi’s direct, questing gaze. “You wouldn’t halt it without a good reason. What happened?” Celebrimbor drains his cup before setting it down.

“A choice has to be made, that’s all. And that choice is completely in Annatar’s hands.” Celebrimbor feels that flicker of awareness. Like a shimmer of gold light. Annatar can’t access his thoughts but he does sense when Celebrimbor is talking about him. “Whatever decision he makes is one I’ll have to accept.” Narvi watches him closely for a few moments, but to Celebrimbor’s relief, she doesn’t press the issue. He changes the topic, and the rest of the evening they spend talking about the newly-opened veins of mithril and gold that elven and dwarf miners had discovered south-west of Eregion, and what could be done to develop it without being too injurious to the surrounding landscape. 

Annatar is waiting for Celebrimbor in his study when he returns to his quarters. His expression is impassive but the line of his spine is tense – likely he wants to know how much Celebrimbor has told Narvi. Celebrimbor watches him silently, betraying nothing.

They stare at each other. Annatar moves forward first. He swallows, takes a step towards. Celebrimbor feels something in him unloosen. He catches Annatar before he can kneel, and Annatar freezes for a moment before melting against him with a sigh. He tucks his head beneath Celebrimbor’s chin. Celebrimbor holds him close, his hand heavy against Annatar’s crown. Gradually, Annatar’s breathing relaxes.

“You didn’t tell her.” Annatar’s voice is muffled against Celebrimbor’s skin. Celebrimbor lets out a breath, gathers him closer.

“No.” He tucks Annatar’s hair behind his ear. “I also told her I’m permanently ceasing development on the rings of power.” Annatar stiffens. He pulls away, and Celebrimbor lets him, already aching for the loss of him.

“Why?” He says. His voice is deadly quiet. Celebrimbor looks back at him without flinching.

“There will be other works, Annatar.” He says, catching Annatar’s hands in his before he can completely pull away. “Other plans. With you by my side-“

Annatar wrenches his hands away from Celebrimbor. “You dare offer me _servitude._ ” He hisses, eyes burning. Celebrimbor’s eyes flash.

“I dare offer you a home.” Celebrimbor snaps. “Somewhere you’ll be loved and respected, where your ideas can be bent towards something other than destruction and dominion. He reaches forwards, cradles Annatar’s face in his hands. His tone softens. “A place where you can _change._ But that choice is yours entirely.”

To his relief, Annatar doesn’t pull away. Celebrimbor sees him fighting not to lower his gaze, to keep his neck straight and unbowed instead of curved into subservience. Fighting his very nature, and grief pierces through him. 

“You were Aule’s Maia before Melkor's. He named you _Mairon._ Surely some of the love for Arda he instilled in all his works remains in you.” Sauron scowls at him.

“I am not a filthy dwarf, content to grub in the dirt for my old master’s cast-offs.” He snarls. This time, it’s Celebrimbor’s turn to withdraw. Panic blooms in Annatar as he drops his hand, but he still defiantly holds Celebrimbor's gaze.

“You’d do well to remember none of my works, or yours could have gotten this far without the dwarves’ wisdom.” Cold displeasure running through him, and something else. Something almost foreign that he’d never had cause to feel towards Annatar before.

Disappointment. He can sense Annatar recoiling from it, for all he's holding himself still. Celebrimbor stops the instinct to soothe, to comfort. It will do more harm than good, here. 

“Your own knowledge would not have reached such heights had you not been using all of us. The incarnates whom you disdain.” Celebrimbro continues, his voice cold. Annatar glares at Celebrimbor, and Celebrimbor glares back. His chest feels like it’s tearing itself in half. 

“I am giving you a place in this realm. Not simply a place by my side, or in my bed. I’m am giving you a place where you can _change.”_ Celebrimbor says.. “Where you can step out of Melkor’s reach, just as I have fought to evade the shadow of my grandfather’s Oath. Where you can _save_ the last part of yourself he wasn’t able to corrupt.” Annatar flinches at that, and Celebrimbor suddenly feels very tired.

“That choice is yours alone to make, Annatar. I cannot make it for you, for all that I've claimed you. For all that you've given yourself to me.” He reaches out, unable to stop himself. Pain lances through him when he sees the grateful relief that Annatar can’t suppress, bleeding through his expression as Celebrimbor tilts his chin up. 

“Sauron. Annatar. What choice will you make? Because I have already made mine.” Celebrimbor says. Annatar swallows hard, but doesn’t answer. Celebrimbor drops his hand. He doesn’t watch Annatar leave, but when the door closes, he suddenly feels very cold and very alone.

\---

Sauron hasn’t spoken to Celebrimbor since that night in his study. Luckily Celebrimbor keeps busy with Narvi’s visit and the trade agreement, so Sauron had a convenient excuse for staying away from him. Moria had never liked outsiders meddling in their relations with other realms. Still, Sauron waits for Celebrimbor to betray him, worse than he already had.

He does not. He does not betray Sauron, and Sauron remains in Ost-in-Edhil.

(Sauron tells himself the only thing keeps him from leaving is the utter finality of his failure if he does so, and not the painful hope on Celebrimbor’s face whenever he sees him still standing beside him. The warmth and sorrow that was not his own, that always encircles him now.)

The apprentices know better than to whisper or ask when he’s within earshot. Narvi’s expression when she looks at him is shrewd, but their relationship had never been as close as hers with Celebrimbor’s (and here Sauron has to crush the resentful jealousy that rises in his gorge, the impulse to keep Celebrimbor all to himself.).

Finally, finally, the delegation from Moria returns home. Sauron joins the farewell-banquet and spends the evening chatting with other members of the Mirdain about future projects that could integrate aspects of the Ring theory deemed stable enough to develop further. Celebrimbor is watching him. Sauron excuses himself and slips away into the gardens. He doesn’t need to look behind him to know that Celebrimbor has followed him. When they’re a good distance away from prying eyes, that’s when Celebrimbor takes his hand. Tugs him to a quiet corner, the scent of summer roses hanging around them. There’s a stone bench there, and Celebrimbor seats Sauron onto it, kneels before him, takes his hands in his. Sauron stifles the odd, quiet thrill at having their situations reversed.

(He knows who has the real power here.) 

“Why haven’t you left?” Celebrimbor asks quietly.

Sauron remembers the sickening taste of Celebrimbor’s disappointment. Hating himself for how much he never wishes to sense it again. There’s still traces of it, even in his question, and Sauron wants to grab his face between his hands and kiss him, do anything to erase it.

"Do you want me to leave?" Sauron answers his question with his own, and Celebrimbor’s expression softens. He leans down. A knot unravels in Sauron’s chest as Celebrimbor brings his hands up to his lips, leaning down to kiss his rough skin. 

“You love this world.” Celebrimbor says. His voice is soft against Sauron’s palm. “As much as the rest of us do. I know this like I know my own heart. Morgoth wasn’t able to corrupt all of you. And I know you love me.” Sauron’s fingers curl around Celebrimbor’s jaw. He does not deny it.

“Why haven’t you told anyone?” He asks at last. His voice is hoarse. Celebrimbor leans down to brush his mouth against Sauron’s palms, smiling a little as Sauron’s fingers brush over his lips. 

“Because I don’t want to.” Celebrimbor says. “Despite my better judgment. For the same reason I kept you close and in my confidence, despite suspecting you for years.” Sauron’s lips twitch.

“To keep an eye on me.” He says. “To keep me under your control.”

“To love you.” Celebrimbor says simply. Sauron’s breath catches. “I love you, and I want to always be with you. Is that not obvious yet?” Sauron trembles. Celebrimbor presses a lingering kiss against the middle of his palm. The heat of it warms Sauron’s face.

“You don’t think I want to serve you, as well?” Sauron sucks in a breath. He stares at Celebrimbor, shocked. Celebrimbor rubs circles into his wrists, watching him.

“Forgive me, for not showing you sooner.” Celebrimbor says. His voice is soft against Sauron’s skin. “Like I said, I was always suspicious, and I didn’t know where I truly stood in your heart.”

“And you think you know now?” Sauron asks. His voice is dangerously quiet. But of course he does. Celebrimbor looks up. His eyes are bright as he places Sauron’s hands against his chest, over his beating heart. He opens his arms.

“Let me hold you.” He says. His voice is gentle, but the command reverberates through Sauron. For a moment, Sauron hesitates. But at the expectant expression on Celebrimbor’s face, he obeys with a grateful sigh. The instinct to offer himself up, to serve, thrumming beneath his skin, and he gives himself over to it so willingly. Allowing himself to be folded against Celebrimbor’s broad chest, thrilling at the warm touch of skin against his. Celebrimbor brushing a kiss against his mouth. The soft press of his lips warming him. Sauron swallows, kisses back. The world all warmth and heat and longing.

“I am more than a servant. Your servant.” Sauron says against Celebrimbor’s lips, because the words need to be said though it feels like they’re being ripped out of him. Celebrimbor traces his fingers over his cheeks.

“And I am only your Master because you will it.” Celebrimbor says softly. “You have as much power over me as I do over you.” Sauron’s eyes widen. Celebrimbor kisses his forehead, smiling slightly, sadly. “And I would not ask of you of more than what you’re capable of giving, Annatar.”

Sauron is silent. Celebrimbor plays with his hair, brushing it back from his forehead. Watching him.

“You must make a choice –your choice – whether to continue serving me or not. I cannot compel you to do so, Annatar. And I will not have you unwilling.” 

Sauron exhales, tears his gaze away as if he can keep himself from letting Celebrimbor’s words echo through him that way. He buries his face against Celebrimbor’s neck, his ear pressed against the beat of his pulse. Celebrimbor holds him, and Sauron lets him until it becomes unbearable. He stands, tugging Celebrimbor up after him. Grasping his hand and he does not look at him as he leads him away from the lights and sounds of merriment into the darkness of his quarters. But when Sauron finally turns to face him when they’re alone, Celebrimbor’s gaze alone is like a shining light, a beacon of hope and trust.

Sauron falls to his knees, bowing his head. Clutching at the hem of Celebrimbor’s robes. Celebrimbor’s arms wind around him to gather him close. Sauron closes his eyes, and Celebrimbor sinks to the floor before him, taking his face in his hands and kissing him, caressing him, taking him in every way possible. Serving Sauron as Sauron gasps and sighs and gives himself over to him. 

\---

Annatar falls asleep in Celebrimbor’s arms, completely spent. Celebrimbor watches over him, watching the silver light of dawn play against his bruised and bitten skin. Annatar's eyes had been so wide as Celebrimbor had thrust into him, kissing and caressing him, making him smile and laugh and come. So fragile and inutterably precious as he lay sleeping. Celebrimbor swallows past the lump that inexplicably rises in his throat, brushes Annatar's hair back and leans close to kiss his temple, then the shell of his ear. 

“Let me keep you.” Celebrimbor whispers against Annatar’s ear. “Please. Choose me.” His voice cracks. Annatar stirs, does not wake. Celebrimbor keeps him tucked close, breathes.

\---

Sauron imagines leaving.

His skin is sticky with sweat and other fluids after making love. The space between his legs hurts. A good hurt, a sweet hurt. Celebrimbor had left no part of him unmarked, untouched. Now he sleeps, and Sauron watches him. Aching, ashamed, hungry. Wanting Celebrimbor. Wanting everything.

He imagines pressing a swift kiss to Celebrimbor’s cheek, and then slipping away, out of Celebrimbor’s bedchambers into the night. Heading East, where the shattered remains of Melkor’s empire awaitied him, ripe for the taking, and he was no one’s servant, no matter how beloved and treasured. Where he knelt to no one. 

_What will you gain that you will not, by his side?_ Days spent together in the forges, bent together over a new project. Sauron’s hand tucked into Celebrimbor’s. Celebrimbor’s soft smile, the hurt flickering at the edges of it. The love in Sauron’s heart that he wishes he could tear out. 

Celebrimbor does not stir, but when Sauron lifts his gaze to his again, his eyes are open.

“Annatar.” Celebrimbor’s hand is gentle against the back of his head. His voice is even more so. “You are free to leave.” Sauron shivers.

"You asked me to stay, once." He murmurs. Celebrimbor kisses the top of his head.

"I will not command you. Not unless you wish me to." Sauron buries his face against his throat, lips pressed against his pulse. 

_I want you to. I want you to keep me._ Some small part of Sauron begs no matter how hard he tries to silence it. _Take this choice from me. I_ _am yours._

There is a price for leaving. There is a price for staying. Sauron thinks of a rat he saw once, which a group of younger orcs had taken to amusing themselves with. They had trapped it in a cage lined with barbed spikes, and thrust a heated brand into the gaps, laughing as the rat squealed and tore its skin to shreds trying to get away. Sauron feels sickened at his own relief when Celebrimbor reaches for him. Thinking of iron manacles, an eternity spent in invisible chains. He clings tighter to Celebrimbor, and Celebrimbor sits up, gathering him into his arms.

 _You’ve broken me._ Sauron thinks but does not say. Celebrimbor kisses his forehead.

“Forgive me.” His voice is raw. “It was never my intention to hurt you.” Sauron’s throat aches. It’s an effort to even try to speak.

“I love you." It's small and raw, the most honest thing Sauron has possibly spoken in millennia. Celebrimbor nudges a kiss against his cheek, and Sauron falls silent. Hs shakes his head, refusing to speak even when Celebrimbor drops a quietly questioning kiss against his temple. Celebrimbor’s breath is warm against his ear.

“I love you, too.” Celebrimbor whispers. “Forgive me for making it a trap.” Sauron doesn’t answer. He clings to Celebrimbor. The sun rises, and still he remains in Celebrimbor’s embrace, until one day he slips away in the dark. He hesitates before he opens the door, waiting for Celebrimbor to stop him. To take him into his arms and command him to _stay._ But there is no sound but Celebrimbor's quiet, even breathing, and Sauron forces himself away, closing the door quietly behind him. 

Eregion is far behind him when dawn breaks. Celebrimbor will wake up to empty arms. Warmth and grief surrounds Sauron, and he ignores the tug at his heart. His Master's pull, present and aching even now. He hurries on, heads East. As far away from Eregion, from his own heart as he can. 

\---

Celebrimbor lets Annatar pull away. Letting him go instead of curling tight around him like he wishes to do. He will not have his lover become his slave. Not if staying meant destroying himself. 

Annatar hesitates at the doorway. Celebrimbor does not call for him. Does not command him. This choice is Annatar's alone to make, and as the door closes, Celebrimbor feels something irreparable in him break. 

Eregion, and the rest of Middle-Earth will suffer for his mistake. But Celebrimbor allows himself a moment to mourn before forcing himself up to finish the work still to be done.

\--

Sauron returns to the East. He gathers the surviving orcs living scattered in the shadows of Middle-Earth, stoking the fire of hate and vengeance in their hearts, makes quick work uniting the ruined shells of kingdoms left rudderless after Melkor’s defeat, raising an empire from Angband's ashes. Numenor - he saves for when he has strength and numbers enough, along with Lindon and Lothloríen. 

(He carefully does not think of Eregion.)

The warmth around him never fades. Neither does the grief and longing in his heart, both entirely his own no matter how much he wishes it isn't. 

He makes Seven. And Nine. Seven rings for seven dwarven-lords, eternally greedy for gold. Nine for mortal kings, desperate for power. And One, for himself.

 _One Ring to rule them all, One ring to bind them…_ It's a simple thing, heavy in his hand. Sauron imagines himself for a moment, returning to Eregion, offering it to its lord-

He banishes the thought as quickly as he feels the warmth flare around him. Sauron hesitates for just one moment before he puts the Ring on. 

A blaze of light. Fire. Seven, and nine. Points of brightness, the press of minds against his, unaware of his presence. But there are three unfamiliar rings, three ringbearers that _sense_ him. Two quickly wink out, the ringbearers removing their rings too quickly for him to sense who they are and their location. But one bright point draws Sauron in, as he’s always done.

Celebrimbor is seated in the gardens, icebound by winter. A ring with a bright blue gem glitters on his hand. His features are weary with grief. The betrayal that seethes beneath Sauron’s skin is still eclipsed by his own love and longing as Celebrimbor looks around him, half in disbelief, half in desperate hope.

“Master.” The word tears out of him before he can stop himself. Celebrimbor’s eyes widen as their eyes meet. He reaches out, but Sauron has already removed the Ring. Tossing aside his greatest creation like it had turned against its own maker. The Ring clatters across the stone floor, coming to a stop at the door of his workshop as Sauron sinks to his knees and buries his head in his shaking hands.

He thinks of the choices before him. At his feet lay a world ripe for the taking. The maia Mairon could become the greatest conqueror of Middle-Earth. His own lord and emperor, mightier even than Melkor. 

But another world beckons with its own puissance -an eternity of quiet, willing servitude at the feet of the one he loves. The beloved slave of the gentlest of masters. A world that Sauron can never turn away from no matter how fruitlessly he struggles against it, Celebrimbor's love - and his own - surrounding him like manacles he can never bear to remove.

 _Are you mine?_ Grey eyes. Warm kisses against his hands, a smile against his lips. Gentle arms gathering him close. 

_My lord. My Master._ Alone, Sauron cannot lie to himself. He can only give the memory his answer. _Yes, I_ _am -_

The One Ring digs into Sauron's palm as he makes his way to where it’s fallen and picks it up. Sauron closes his fingers over it, lets out a breath. He makes his choice and slips it on. 

**Author's Note:**

> Rather less smutty than the two others but hey, plot and charactr development ahoy. 
> 
> Do things go according to canon? Does Sauron make the right choice? WHat is the right choice for someone like him anyway? Going against his nature is clearly hurting him, but so it giving into it. 
> 
> Comments are beloved. :D Once again, thanks to toastedbuckwheat for all the inspiration. :D


End file.
